


Cookies & Mates

by withinmelove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Christmas, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 03:39:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinmelove/pseuds/withinmelove
Summary: Stiles doesn't expect to enjoy pretending to be Peter's mate. Surprises are in store for him.





	Cookies & Mates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Annabeth Crestfallen (Annabeth_Crestfallen_LeMorte)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabeth_Crestfallen_LeMorte/gifts).



> Once again I've had the chance to write for Anna and I'm simply delighted! I highly admire her work and hope this fic fulfills the prompt perfectly. It was great fun to write for your prompt :D 
> 
> Happy holidays!
> 
> Critiques and feedback are great things to hear.

The Christmas season is here, and Stiles finds that so weird to think about. What with the Nogitsune taking over his body and Mr. Harris along with Erica and Boyd dying, holidays and cheer seem like a thing from some different time. At this point Christmas should be far from his mind, but it’s with almost fevered vigor that Stiles starts getting into the holiday mood. 

“Stiles, do you think this might be a bit much?” 

Stiles looks up from where he’s making a sixth string of snowflakes. His dad gently removes the ones that encircle the headrest of his recliner. 

“What - I’m just being festive. Besides, I already made some for your car.” Dad smiles and nods at that one as he settles down in the recliner with his plate of food. 

“Yes, I saw those and thank you, Stiles. Any perps I pick up will know my son’s holiday spirit, but do you think you’re going overboard doing so much? You were awake at 2am on a school night putting those jelly Christmas things on the windows.” 

He returns his attention to where he’s carefully containing his paper clippings on the newspaper he put on the table for this project. He knows where this conversation is headed, and he really doesn’t want to discuss the mania behind the decorating. 

“Stiles, I know it’s difficult to lose friends and even a teacher you hated, but don’t push yourself too hard, alright? Christmas will still be here even if the house isn’t festooned with reindeer and cookies. I’m guessing baking was next on the list?” his dad adds hopefully. Stiles gives a tiny smile as he nods. 

“I was gonna start that this weekend. Make stuff for us, Scott's mom, and the Pack. Freeze everything in advance.” 

“Can’t wait. And you’re doing okay? You’ll come to me if you need help? Now that I’m aware of all the craziness around town.” 

He meets his dad’s concerned gaze. 

“Fine as ever, dad.” 

\---

The day he’s to start baking, Peter turns up in his room. Because apparently there’s no other way for werewolves to come in but through his bedroom window. Stiles blames that tradition entirely on Derek. He’s the one who started it, after all. It’s the first day of winter break when Peter makes his surprise appearance. When Stiles wakes up it’s to find Peter lounging in his computer chair reading a book. He should probably be more upset by this invasion of privacy. What if he’d decided to jerk off without realizing Peter was sitting right over there? Well - likely Peter would have watched and just made some sarcastic joke right before he got off. But that’s not the point of the matter. 

“Wha’re you doing here?” he manages to slur out, voice still raspy from sleep. Peter looks up from his book, marking the page with his finger. 

“To help with the holiday baking, of course. Scott accidentally texted me the message to you that said he wasn’t going to make it today.” Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, a bitter drop of resentment flaring in his chest. Guess having a girlfriend meant more than quality friend time. When he opens his eyes again it’s to find Peter watching him with curiosity. 

“I’m not Scott, but I promise I can cook and bake better than a high school junior.” A chuckle escapes at that. Sure, why not? The worst Peter can do is burn something. 

“You can stay. Let me get showered first and then we can get started.” Peter nods, going back to his book while Stiles grabs a towel and heads to the bathroom. No doubt Scott will be bothered to hear Peter took his place, but what did he expect, that he’d just not bake? 

They had started the tradition when they were thirteen and Scott’s mom was just recently divorced from Scott’s dad. It meant that she needed to work crazy amounts of hours at the hospital. Besides, baking with Scott gave him the same contentment when Stiles’ own mom was still alive. Anyways, the work was always worth seeing Miss. McCall’s and his dad’s faces light up at all the baked goods. It was only last year that Stiles added making dinner to that list as well. 

An army of Tupperware awaits today’s feast and pastries. What with their hours, he knows they appreciate the couple days’ worth of food made for them. Besides, maybe Peter is a great cook and not just boasting. Stiles himself isn’t too bad, he just gets too distracted with all the dishes he starts making at the same time. Speaking of which, he should probably wash up instead of standing under the hot water all day, much as he likes that thought. It only takes him ten minutes to wash up, swish mouthwash around and brush his teeth. When he returns to his room, Peter is browsing through his bookcase for more interesting options. 

“Try _Playing Well with Others_ , that one might appeal to you,” Stiles suggests as he grabs underwear, his favorite sweatpants and a tank-top. Peter nods, finding said book and pulling it from the shelf, pointedly keeping his eyes away from Stiles’ momentary nudity as he puts on underwear. He wonders why. 

Peter’s usually so much more snarky. Stiles narrows his eyes as he steps into his sweatpants. Something’s up, but he’s not quite sure what it is. Well, whatever, he’ll either be told or figure out what’s going on soon enough. For now, there’s three families to feed in the next few days, so no time to mull over what Peter, and very likely the Pack, is hiding. 

“Do you want to peel the potatoes or start the lasagna?” Stiles asks as he pulls on an oversized t-shirt. Peter gives him a _are you kidding me?_ look. Okay, okay he gets it. “Fine, I just thought I’d ask. Come on, we better get started now.” His dad is off with his cop buddies right now. He’ll be away for the day since he isn’t allowed in the kitchen until after Stiles is finished cooking. Otherwise there’s far fewer cookies and brownies than Stiles took out of the oven when his dad is in the house. Temporary exile is the price to be paid for a delicious feast upon return. 

They tromp downstairs where his dad (always considerate) has set out the Tupperware on the kitchen table. Stiles fills three big pots with water while Peter turns on both big burners and a small one on the stove. 

“Potatoes are under the sink. Two bags of them,” Stiles directs as he pulls the grocery bag nearest him closer. Inside are the ingredients for the lasagna he’s going to make. He plans to make two for the Pack. All those carbs should tide them over for an hour. Mashed potatoes will be divided between their three houses. Freshly baked bread, the same thing. Currently, the three large puffed-up loaves are sitting on the counter by the sink. Two Cornish hens for Melissa and Scott. 

For his dad, Stiles is going to do crockpot ham with russet red potatoes and plenty of veggies. Bean dip with the works will be their snack for the next couple of days. In regards to dessert, the three dozen cookies will go directly to the Pack. One dozen chocolate chip, one dozen chocolate, and the last dozen will be thumbprint cookies. A pan of brownies made with applesauce will go to Scott’s house. The finishing piece will be the coconut-apple cobbler. It’s a new recipe Stiles found recently. 

They work quietly, Peter washing the potatoes as Stiles adds salt to one of the pots of heating water. It’s quite...odd to see him being so domestic and quiet today. Stiles takes in his lean frame, cozily dressed in black sweatpants and a dark green hoodie. What catches him by surprise is to notice that Peter’s hair has grown shaggy. Small whorls of curls springing up. The longer hair suits him, Stiles decides. But nice as this is, Peter’s odd behavior only serves to amp up his sense of something not being right.

“So why did you really come over to help? Unless you’ve been waiting for Scott to ditch me and chose now to make your move, in which case I’m impressed with your timing,” Stiles asks, putting the noodles in one pot, the thawed-out ground beef in the second, before turning down the heat on the third burner to a simmer. Peter keeps his eyes on peeling the potatoes when he answers.

“I suppose I deserve the distrust. But I did come over for the fact I wanted to help you. Scott told me that you work yourself to the bone making Christmas dinner for two households. I imagined you’d be up until the early morning hours trying to cook and bake for the Pack as well. Hard to believe I do occasionally enjoy your company. Besides, Derek is unbearable at the moment. I thought it prudent to get away for a bit.” 

There’s no need to ponder what has made Derek so miserable.

Peter doesn’t offer anything more than that and Stiles can’t find it within himself to question any harder. They’re all feeling the effects of Erica and Boyd’s deaths. If Peter finds comfort or distraction in making Christmas dinner with him, who is he to deny that? The extra hands and cooking expertise are well appreciated. 

Soon enough, the lasagna and two Cornish hens are in the oven. The potatoes are peeled, boiled and strained before Peter takes the hand mixer to them. Meanwhile, Stiles has got the ham in the crock pot, washing off the veggies and chopping them into bite-size pieces to be added in.

Despite the general distrust of Peter’s motives, Stiles has to admit he does like this quiet time with him. Usually they’re taking snipes at each other. Besides Lydia, he’s the best one to verbally spar with. 

Finally there’s nothing more to be done while the first round of cooking is going on. One last check on everything in the oven before Stiles sets the chicken-shaped timer. 

“C’mon, we can hang out in the living room,” Stiles says, leading the way with Peter following after. They settle on the couch as he grabs the remote to turn on the TV. Without realizing it, he sits down closer than he means to, startling when his back presses against Peter’s side. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, scooting over even as Peter shrugs. There’s no way Peter can miss the way Stiles’ heartbeat has picked up.

“We’re Pack, Stiles. You can lean on me. I promise I won’t bite.” This has him blinking in surprise before he narrows his eyes. All he gets in return is a politely curious expression. Okay, there’s most certainly something he’s being kept out of the loop on.

“Since when have you been Mr. Touchy-Feely about being Pack?” 

“Since the fact a group of visiting werewolves are coming to town.” 

Okay, his jaw drops at that news. Not that supernatural visitors are unusual, but that very important information is being kept from him. What with the fact he’s the first emergency contact for everyone. Peter watches him, waiting for a reaction. It takes Stiles a moment to remember his words. 

“Why wasn’t I told about this? And when are they showing up? We need to get ready!” He jumps to his feet to go get the bestiary from his room, but Peter’s firm grip on his wrist keeps him in place. 

“There’s no point in worrying, Stiles. They won’t be here for three weeks and there’s already a plan figured out, which Derek decided you would be informed of tomorrow.” 

Stiles sinks back onto the couch, not bothering to shake off Peter’s grasp. Hearing that takes the wind out of him. What was so top secret they couldn’t tell? Do they not trust him after the Nogitsune? This thought hurts the worst.

“Stiles.” A squeeze to his hand. “This isn’t about trust or what happened with the fox spirit. It’s Scott and Derek being idiotic. As usual,” Peter adds. Well, that doesn’t really make him feel any better. Even if Derek and Scott are being dumb, he’d like to be clued in. This thought must be apparent to Peter, because he rolls his eyes before gently pulling him closer and into his side. Stiles is unresistant to this closeness.

“You won’t feel so sad when you hear the plan,” Peter assures him as he starts to strokes Stiles’ hair. He lets him, the drowsy feeling better than being hurt. So they sit together, Peter stroking his hair, watching National Geographic while the food cooks. By the time they get the enormous feast finished and sealed away, it’s reaching ten at night. Time to call his dad home and for Peter to head out. As a show of gratitude, Stiles insists that he take a plate of cookies home. 

“Thank you, Stiles.” He’s unprepared for the genuine smile Peter gives. 

A little dazed, Stiles answers. “Thank _you_ for coming to help me. Made all this a lot easier.” Peter smiles again before he turns and strolls off into the night. When Stiles closes the front door, his chest feels full of fizzy bubbles. Nothing to do with that smile by any chance. Nope. All due to the fact he got the holiday baking done on time. 

\--

The next day that light, bubbly feeling is replaced by disbelief and humiliation.

Apparently, the plan Derek and Scott came up with involves Stiles playing mates with Peter. He’s less upset about the fact he has to be pretend lovers and more about the issue of being left out of this decision. There’s no point in questioning why they did it. Everyone including himself knows he won’t back out, not when it comes to the safety of their Pack. They need to make a good impression and are in dire straits for allies. 

“Why doesn’t Kira have to be scent-marked as well? She’s a Kitsune!” Stiles knows he sounds like a whiny child, but presently he doesn’t really care.

“Yes, that’s exactly why she doesn’t need to be. Kira wasn’t possessed by a dark spirit. Fox or otherwise,” Derek replies, his raised eyebrows giving a _you’re so dumb_ look. Derek’s eyebrows can convey so much more emotion than should be possible. Human or supernatural. “We need to show you’re a part of the Pack and not a rogue supernatural.”

“But - but what about me having to be mates with Peter? Why can’t I just be a part of the Pack like usual?” he protests, knowing it’s futile. No matter what he says or how unwilling, he’s going to be forced to play along. Heck, being scent-marked doesn’t bother Stiles; what does is the statement of needing to be mates. 

Truth be told, it’s not as if he hasn’t thought about Peter in a sexual manner. However, it’s a completely different ball game to pretend to be in a relationship with the dude. For one, if his dad finds out he might just die of the heart attack Stiles has worked so hard to stave off. For another, it hurts his pride to need to be paired up. No doubt if he had a boyfriend or girlfriend to take him in there’d be no need for a fake relationship in the first place. Forever single means some solution has to be thought up. Really doesn’t make a person feel great about themselves. 

No pretend-dating Scott as it’s obvious he and Kira are together. No-no on Derek as a dark fox with an Alpha may be seen as a threat. Isaac noped out of the option (wonders for his self-esteem). So that had left Peter, who had not even pretended to be dismayed, which was a shock. Thankfully, Peter knows better than to get handsy right now. Not after that rude announcement. 

\--

However, the affectionate touching does start though, and small enough. It’s Monday after school and lacrosse practice that finds Stiles at Derek’s apartment. With the new Pack arriving in T-minus three weeks, everyone is more on edge. Scott is out every night now when there isn’t a lacrosse game patrolling around Beacon Hills with Derek in werewolf form. Kira is undergoing more intense training with her mom to work with her powers. Isaac is attached at the hip to Scott or otherwise off with Deaton. So that leaves him and Peter the odd men out. Stiles lets his dad know about the incoming visiting werewolves and that he’s needed with the Pack a lot more. The only part he left out was the whole “pretending to be mates.” Time enough to figure out some suitable explanation. 

So currently Stiles is camped out at Derek’s kitchen table working his way through both his homework for the next two weeks and looking up werewolf courtesies. It’s not often they get friendly ones. He’s so engrossed in a particular section discussing the body language of hierarchy he doesn’t notice Peter’s approach. What Stiles _does_ notice is Peter resting his hand over the nape of his neck. 

“Um...what are you doing?” he asks, going very still as Peter firmly scratches up and down the back of his neck. Stiles doesn’t feel a bit of betrayal as his shoulders slump at the amazing tickling sensation. 

“Showing you affection. That was the idea of us being paired together, after all,” Peter says, letting his nails find their way into Stiles’ hair.

“But - but.” Okay, his brain may be short-circuiting right now. “Still...got three weeks.” He tips his head back at the slight pull on his hair. 

Peter chuckles. “No harm in getting started early.” It’s that statement that pulls him back from his hazy drowsiness. What is he doing letting himself be taken down so easily by head scratches? Here he protested against being his mate and the guy’s already made him feel like putty. 

“Go touch someone else, I’ve got research and homework to do,” he grumbles, shaking his head. Peter hums as he stops invading Stiles’ personal space (non-existent as it is). 

“Whatever you say, Stiles.” 

He will not admit that for the rest of the night he still feels Peter’s nails scratching his scalp. For his part, Peter doesn’t bring it up, but that smug smile says it all. Thankfully none of the others bring up the trace scent on him. However, Stiles can’t deny to himself that he wants more head scratches. Hell, what he wouldn’t do to have more affectionate touching in his life. Being possessed by the Nogitsune and hurting people had the downside of no one wanting to get too close to him. Even after trapping the asshole fox spirit the Pack was still reluctant to be handsy with him. 

“You smell off,” Scott had stated sometime soon after Stiles was pretty much back to normal. He’d sniffed his armpits but, no, he’d remembered to put on deodorant. Scott had shaken his head. 

“It’s not that. Your scent is off now that it’s mixed with the Nogitsune,” Derek had added. A nose-dive of confidence. 

He’s been mulling that conversation over since Peter played with his hair. Well, fuck it, he may as well jump in with both feet. If he’s going to smell weird it can’t be any worse adding Peter’s scent to his own. 

So, the next day, after he’s finished with his research, Stiles settles down next to Peter, who is dozing on the couch as he likes to do quite often. He pulls the blanket thrown over the arm of the couch over himself before putting a throw pillow on Peter’s right thigh. Peter opens his eyes at all this commotion, watching him get settled lying down.

“Is there something you’re wanting?” he asks, laying a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles snuggles down into the pillow. 

“Just getting comfortable,” Stiles replies, curling his toes when Peter lifts up the back of his shirt enough to properly scratch his back. No lie, the feeling of Peter’s nails is absolutely mind-melting. Warmth flutters low in his stomach. There’s no way he can’t smell Stiles’ arousal, but oddly the thought doesn’t bother Stiles. Actually, he wants Peter to know how much he enjoys the affection. Eventually, Peter changes to rubbing his back before he moves to playing with Stiles’ hair. 

Oh god, if he thought back scratches were great, Peter working his fingers through his hair is wondrous. 

“Mmh, that feels amazing,” Stiles mumbles, turning over onto his back so that he can sleepily look up at Peter. What he doesn’t expect to see is the tender expression aimed at him. The warmth of a blush rushes to his face even faster when Peter caresses his jaw. It’s an unsettling but not unpleasant thing to have Peter looking down at him with such quiet fondness. 

\--

By week two they’ve progressed to full-on cuddling, usually on the couch or Stiles’ bed. The day Stiles’ dad finds out about the fake mates Peter and Stiles are cuddling in the bed. The month of December is a wonderful stresser of final exams, papers, and projects before break. By this point, Stiles is exhausted, more so than usual from studying for finals, indoor lacrosse practice, and needing to be with both Packs so often. They need to present a united face as both mates and a group.

So alone time to recharge has been absent for him the past week and a half. And okay, he ends up not being as attentive to his dad’s work schedule as he usually would be. 

Peter is reading a book from his bookshelf again when Stiles gets home from lacrosse practice. It’s just too much temptation. 

“When I’m out of the shower, please let’s cuddle. Underwear has to stay on,” he hastily adds. Peter nods, already moving to the bed as Stiles grabs a towel and heads to the bathroom. Scalded of sweat and some of his stress, it’s with great appreciation that he crawls into bed with Peter, who has foregone both his sweatpants and t-shirt. Well, Stiles did say only underwear had to be on.

Okay, so maybe he groans _softly_ to himself as he snuggles up to Peter’s warm body, resting his head on Peter’s chest. He nuzzles when Peter starts to stroke his hair. 

“Sounds like you’ve needed this for awhile.” Stiles nods, unashamed to wriggle closer. Unintentionally, they both end up falling asleep.

What wakes Stiles up is his dad knocking on the door calling his name. He’s still pretty much asleep when he opens the door a few seconds later. There’s only time enough for Stiles to roll over, Peter’s arm still around his waist.

For far too many seconds, they’re all frozen, shock and embarrassment playing across his dad’s face. It seems to hit him a moment later that this is _Peter_ who’s half-dressed in bed with Stiles.

Instead of clutching his chest and collapsing on the floor from a heart attack, Stiles’ dad simply stares at Peter, who returns the serious look, for once not running his mouth. 

“Stiles, Peter. When you’re...done I’d like to talk with you both.” He and Peter silently nod. His dad quickly closes the bedroom door, footsteps headed for the stairs. Without a word, they get out of bed, dress and follow after him, finding John in the kitchen, where he’s poured himself a shot of rum.

“Let me guess, this is about the Pack and it’s for Stiles’ safety?” John asks, to which Peter nods. “And you’re not taking advantage of my son?” 

Heat rolls over Stiles. “Oh my god, Dad!”

His dad turns his solemn expression on him. “If Peter is going to be your mate, we should have him over for dinner at least.” Stiles looks back and forth between the two, completely at a loss for words. This isn’t the reaction, let alone the conversation, he was expecting from his dad. Peter, meanwhile, is surprised but silent on the matter. Maybe Stiles is having one of those “awake but not awake” dreams. However, he can read the print just fine on his dad’s badge, so nope, he’s completely conscious. 

“Speaking of dinner, Stiles, would you run to the store real quick and buy some more tea? I brought the rest to work today but didn’t have time to buy any more. Take my card,” he adds firmly when Stiles opens his mouth to protest. Stiles eyes them both before he fetches the credit card and heads out the door, throwing glances over his shoulder the entire time. 

John waits until he sees the Jeep back out of the driveway before he looks back to Peter. At first glance, Peter is unassuming; it’s when he starts to talk, that’s when people notice him. John estimates he’s in his late twenties to early thirties. 

“If this whole “pretending to be mates” involves sex, understand that’s still statutory rape in the eyes of the law. Werewolf customs be damned.” Peter nods calmly, not in the least intimidated, it’s clear to see. But he’s not going to be brushed off that easily. 

“Peter, my son works himself to exhaustion for you all. Tell me you’re not forcing him into this or I _will_ bring the entire force on you.” 

Peter smiles, shaking his head as if he’s said something funny. 

“Sheriff, you don’t know your son or myself very well to threaten that. Sex won’t be necessary to convey us as mates. Besides, Stiles is more than able to say no if he so wants when he’s of age, of course. I offered to be mates with him to protect him from any suspicions about the scent of the Nogitsune that lingers around him. You’re not alone in wanting to see Stiles safe and happy.” 

John blinks, shocked by Peter’s sincerity. From what his son had told him, Peter could be quite the charmer to get his way when he wanted. But if his paternal instincts are right, this isn’t some line that Peter’s using. He does care for Stiles. Now to figure out if that’s with an underlying romantic motive. 

\--

The new roaming Pack is pleasant when they finally make their way to the Preserve. No terrorizing the town or biting people. Since Derek has made sure to patrol constantly (forcing Scott to do so as well), there’s no way they miss the scent of an Alpha, let alone two. Just as hoped, they beeline straight towards the apartment. They’re a small group with only one Alpha, her mate, and two Betas. Henrietta is the Alpha, her mate is Henrik, and Sun and Amanita are the two Betas. Henrietta is a tall, statuesque African American woman, who Stiles swears is Lupita Nyong’o. Amanita is also black, whereas Sun is Korean. Henrik is the lone white man of the group. 

Stiles applauds the diversity in his mind. 

“You have two foxes in your midst. Generous,” Sun notes. There’s no missing the way the others are taking in their scents. 

“Yes, we’ve found having a variety keeps things interesting,” Peter answers, almost succeeding in keeping the biting sarcasm out. It would be too much to ask of him to do so.

Thankfully, the next couple of days go off without a hitch. No bruised egos or faces, which counts as a massive success in Stiles’ book. Surprisingly, it’s easy, now that there’s an actual audience, to fall into the routine of being an affectionate couple. Often Peter is the one who reaches out first (a surprise for someone handsy like Stiles), holding his hand or pulling Stiles into his side. Their cuteness seems to keep the visiting Pack at ease about Stiles’ Nogitsune scent. An absolute miracle. 

\--

Once the friendly werewolves leave, there’s no more need for them to act like mates. They’ve done the job of convincing others that Stiles isn’t a threat. But neither one thinks to stop being affectionate. 

At first, Stiles doesn’t analyze the reasons behind Peter handing him gloves, a scarf, or earmuffs when he forgets to wear his own (which is quite often). The weather is turning bitterly cold as winter sets in; it makes sense that Peter would ensure he didn’t get frostbite or hypothermia. However, Peter starts doing that with blankets when they’re at Derek’s apartment or Stiles’ house spending time together. As soon as they sit down, Peter’s bundling him up. 

Not until the day Peter forces him to wear Peter’s winter coat as Stiles’ winter coat finally gave up the ghost two days ago is the behavior revealed for what it is. 

“You didn’t seem the kind to nest, Peter,” Isaac chuckles as he stuffs his feet into his boots. Stiles gives Isaac and then Peter a confused look, straightening the borrowed coat on his shoulders better. The sleeves are too short for his long arms, but that’s better than nothing, what with the biting wind howling outside. 

Peter offers Stiles a pair of thick gloves before he answers. He puts them on so now only a small bit of his forearms will be exposed. 

“It’s instinct, and you never saw me with my wife,” Isaac smirks at the two of them before he’s heading out the door a light jacket thrown on. Lucky werewolf metabolism. 

“What did he mean, “nesting”? Like a mom getting ready for her baby?” Stiles asks, turning back to Peter. Once again, his knowledge of friendly or mating behaviors is minimal. 

A nod. “It can be that or between mates. Usually only during heats or newly paired mates. For all intents and purposes, Stiles, you are mine to look after. Only natural for me to want to bundle you up, to protect my mate from hurting themselves.” 

Heat crawls over his body at that. There’s no way to hide that he’s blushing. Stiles’ pale skin doesn’t allow him to get away with that. He doesn’t know how to answer or react to Peter’s possessiveness, or that he still sees Stiles as his mate even after the danger has passed. Instead, he switches topics slightly. 

“I didn’t know that could happen between a human and werewolf since a human can’t give off a concentrated scent.” This makes Peter chuckle, causing Stiles’ belly to swoop at the sound. Okay, this new information may be doing things to his thoughts.

Peter shakes his head. “With a normal human, no. But you’re not normal anymore. While you’re not a true-born Kitsune, however, after becoming so intertwined it left you changed and with a scent of the supernatural. So you can scent-mark faintly now.” 

Stiles blinks at him. So what he’s saying is that he, Stiles, can mark Peter in return. The idea makes his stomach flip-flop. Before he can dig any deeper, his cellphone is blaring Scott’s ringtone. 

“Yeah?” he asks, giving Peter an apologetic smile, who returns it with a fond one. 

“Stiles, c’mon, I’m waiting in the parking lot! Isaac said you’re still chatting with Peter.” A slight note of accusation, as if he isn’t allowed to do so. 

“Calm down, Scott. I’ll be down in a second.” He hangs up before Scott can lecture him. Plenty of time for that during the drive to school. Even though there’s no longer a reason to do so, he hugs Peter, sparks tingling up his spine when Peter nuzzles his cheek returning the hug.

“Stiles?” Peter asks, lips brushing his ear, and wow, Stiles might combust into flames.

“Yeah?” They pull back just enough to look at each other, not completely leaving each other’s arms.

“Would you like to come over tonight and help me decorate for Christmas? Despite how much time I spend here, I do have my own apartment.” 

Butterflies tickle inside of Stiles’ chest. He would really enjoy decorating Peter’s apartment. 

“Yes!” 

This answer earns him a warm smile. Before they can get any more caught up, Peter’s the one to pull away. 

“Good. I’ll see you after school then.” 

The school day can’t go by fast enough. Stiles spends the entire time spaced out, both knees bouncing at top speed in impatience. Lydia gives him weird looks and Scott tries to waylay him after the final bell. A miracle that Coach Finstock pulls Scott aside for some captain instructions. Stiles makes a speedy getaway, able to convince Danny out in the parking lot to give him a lift to Peter’s apartment.

Before he can quite believe it, he’s standing in front of Peter’s door, wondering if his quick nervous heartbeat is giving him away. Finally, he musters up the courage to knock and is rewarded with a shouted, “Come in!” from within. What he finds inside is Peter sitting on the floor, a box of new Christmas lights opened in front of him. A small fake tree already waiting in the corner of the living room. The tinsel is still in its packaging on the couch and there are a couple sprigs of fake mistletoe. Enough for what looks to be every doorway in his apartment. 

It’s all so - so...domestic and adorable that Stiles wishes they had been forced to be mates a lot earlier. He sits down beside Peter to start untangling the new lights that are of course hopelessly bunched up even inside the box. Never in his life has he come across Christmas lights that are tangle free. Clearly those are only a myth, like the Loch Ness monster. 

Before he can let himself think too hard on what he’s about to say, Stiles blurts out, “So about us being mates. Are - are we still doing that? Because that’s totally cool if we are, but if not that’s also fine because it’s probably weird for you to be dating a human, right? Even though I’ve got Nogitsune’s power and scent still rattling around inside and by the way does this mean I can scent-mark you back now?” 

Peter’s hand grasping his own has Stiles look over at him. His face flushes at the way Peter’s looking at him. Like he’s the cutest thing here. 

“Being mates with you, Stiles, would truly be a gift.” A laugh startles out of him.

“Really? You’re going to make a pun _now_? Way to ruin the mood! And here I was thinking about using the mistletoe as a reason to kiss you.” 

A grin spreads across Peter’s face, and uh-oh, Stiles may have put himself in an awkward position. Mainly for the fact he really, really wants to kiss Peter and that he might now be turned down flat on his face.Thankfully, he doesn’t keep Stiles in suspense when a moment later Peter leans in to place a soft kiss upon his lips. 

“You don’t need an excuse to kiss me, Stiles. We’re mates, if you want that, kisses included.” Peter answers. 

Stiles can’t help himself from grinning like a fool.

“I do want that now please shut up and kiss me.” 

Peter wastes no time in complying with that order.

**Author's Note:**

> My beta zilia continues to be my godsend even when she's got her new baby to take care of. My sentences would run on for years otherwise. Thank you for all that you do <3
> 
> I've made a ko-fi account: http://ko-fi.com/oliveolive  
> Tips would be great if you've got any to spare :)


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